


Sasha Semin: Life Coach

by rekishi



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2012 season, All the Staals, Carolina Hurricanes, Eric's kids, Friendship, Jeff Skinner's Life Is Hard, Post lockout, Sasha is so done, Sasha's friends are terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekishi/pseuds/rekishi
Summary: "Now Sasha," he murmured to himself in Russian, "go in and meet your team. How bad can it be?"He couldn't believe he was standing here with his gear bag over his shoulder, giving himself a pep talk. It was ridiculous.Or: Sasha joins the Hurricanes and realizes a) he gets more than he bargained for, b) all his friends are idiots, and c) the Staals are completely up in each other's business.





	Sasha Semin: Life Coach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pr_scatterbrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/gifts).



> Please note, I had initially marked this work as unfinished, but after talking to [pr_scatterbrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/profile%5D) about it I realized ... I might as well leave it as is, because sometimes the best ends are beginnings. 
> 
> This takes place in the same 'verse as the other stories in the collection, but can be totally read as a standalone.

Alexander Semin stood in the parking lot of Raleigh Center Ice, training facility of the Carolina Hurricanes, and wasn't sure whether he could go in. Fact was, he had to go in eventually. It might only be the day before the start of training camp, but if he couldn't even get himself to go in and see the ice, going to PNC arena tomorrow to get his picture taken was an impossibility.

Sasha really only knew the 'Canes from the other side of the ice; they might have been division rivals before, but that had never really mattered for anything. Even though they had signed him despite his _reputation_ \- that he was very well aware of - and had met his, or rather his agents' asking price, yet he was still wary of going in. He had spent his entire NHL career with the Capitals, after all, and this seemed … wrong, somehow.

"Now Sasha," he murmured to himself in Russian, "go in and meet your team. How bad can it be?"

He couldn't believe he was standing here with his gear bag over his shoulder, giving himself a pep talk. It was ridiculous. 

Eventually though he couldn't wait any longer, someone would for sure accost him rather sooner than later, and he had no need for his new teammates to think of him as a basket case. No more than they already did anyway, at least.

Sasha had been going to and from ice rinks since he'd been allowed to play organized hockey, and those wee something that didn't differ much between Russia and the US. Thus he had no problem finding the locker rooms, small favors to be thankful for. Some stalls were obviously already occupied with pads, skates and practice jerseys piled into them, but the majority was still empty, and for a moment Sasha stood there, wondering how things around here worked. 

Could he just take any stall, or would any of the Hurricanes veterans be pissed? However, he didn't have a lot of time to wonder, as the door opened and banged against the wall far more forceful than would have been necessary. In walked a blond Staal he had last seen in a Penguins' jersey, followed by Sasha's new captain, bellowing, "You might have been raised on a farm, Jordan, but I know Mom made sure you know how to treat other people's property!"

Jordan rolled his eyes and rushed past Sasha to dump his bag in front of what appeared to be a random stall, "Yeah, yeah, whatever, put the big brother away, you're my captain here!"

"That makes it even worse," was the mumbled response that Sasha only heard because the man had halted next to him. Now he turned to Sasha, extending his head. "Hi, I'm Eric, it's good to have you here, Alex."

"Sasha," Sasha corrected as he shook Eric's hand.

Frowning, the other man didn't look convinced, but turned to his brother. "Hey Jordy, get to know your new teammate!"

"I've known the guy for ages!" Jordan yelled over his shoulder. "Hi Sasha, good to have you, at least I won't be the only one Eric will try to boss around."

"Hey!" Eric interjected and when it looked like a brotherly dispute was to follow - and one that seemed to already have its grooves worn at that - Sasha slowly stepped back and chose one of the unoccupied stalls. 

If anyone minded he could say so, Sasha wasn't married to sitting two stalls away from either Staal brother, and he just hoped that Skinner and whoever took the free one in between would provide enough of a buffer. He also didn't feel any pity at all for whoever it would be, it was their own fault for coming late - and Skinner had to know what he was in for, after all. 

Sasha kept his head down while putting on his pads and lacing his skates. He hadn't been given a practice jersey yet, but he'd brought some over from Novgorod, so he wasn't sporting a Capitals jersey on Hurricanes ice, at least. He still stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed all in blue, but he couldn't do anything about that right this second.

Eric was waiting for him when he finally looked up and gave him a smile. "Ready?"

Nodding, Sasha pushed up, found his balance within a split second and waited until Eric had walked past. Jordan was nowhere to be see, but Sasha had the distinct impression hat this was a sibling thing rather than something that the team had to handle. He also suspected it would die down once the season was actually starting; those two might be brothers, but they also had been professional athletes for years and it would be fine. At least he hoped so.

He tried skating for himself for a while. Contrary to those two, he had been playing on the big ice in Russia, and from experience he knew he'd need to get used to the reduced dimensions again. He tried taking the puck through the corners, shots on goal from angles that didn't make sense on the big ice but were absolutely workable in the NHL, especially with no goalie between the pipes. Occasionally he passed back and forth with Eric or Jordan, but they generally left him alone. It didn't feel uncomfortable, though.

After a while, he saw Kirk Muller come to the player's bench and wave at him. Rolling his shoulders, Sasha skated towards him, took off his helmet, still with the Caps logo, and rested it on the boards.

"I guess you being here means you found everything all right," Muller said and reached out his hand. "It's good to have you here, we've been happy to sign you."

Shaking the man's hand, Sasha smiled a little. He'd gone unsigned long enough to make clear to the whole League that he was a problem, and his agent had made that clear as well, said maybe Sasha wanted to try his luck back home. But that was exactly what Sasha didn't want. For various reasons. He had no illusions right now he was being told they'd taken a gamble with him.

"Organization very helpful, make transition easy." That was true, the Hurricanes had found him an apartment he liked with the option to buy should his tenure extend before the lockout had taken effect. While he'd been in Russia, all his things had stayed in Raleigh. Considering all that, maybe he was odd he'd not really met anyone from front office yet, but then there had been a lockout. "I look forward playing for Hurricanes."

"That's what I wanted to hear. I also see you met Eric and Jordan already." It wasn't even really a question and Sasha raised an eyebrow at that. The Staals were hardly unknown in the NHL and Sasha was under no illusion that he'd been signed to play on a line with one of them, maybe both, but Eric had the superior stats and the Olympic medal and Jordan couldn't be moved off center for .

To displace some nervous energy, Sasha scratched his head. "Jordan as teammate is big change."

"I have no trouble believing that. Well, that's what training camp will be for, but I'd like to start you playing with Eric and see how that works out, I think you could benefit from one another." He new coach looked him up and down. "We should get you kitted out if you're here already. The equipment guys will be around later, if you can wait."

"Great," Sasha said and nodded. He knew he sounded relieved, but he really didn't care, he'd liked Novogrod, but he was back in the NHL, he played for a new team and he wanted to fit in here. Preferably before the start of training camp. "Rest of team come in?"

Muller shrugged. "Some will come in, some will only show up tomorrow for pictures and physicals. Go get back there before you cool down too much. Enjoy."

Nodding again, Sasha made his way back to his side of the ice. The Staal brothers were arguing loudly a good thirty meters away, but if he'd paid attention he would still have understood every word. A stray puck slithered across the ice, followed by a "Damn you, Jordan!" and rolling his eyes, Sasha shot it back, a reaction that earned him a grin from Eric.

Staals. Sasha started to understand where Sanja was coming from when he said that, having gotten more exposure to that particularly family. That's what he got for always hanging around the Pens. 

A good hour after he'd first stepped onto the ice he'd worked up a good sweat and felt he had something of a handle again on the dimensions of an NHL rink. Whether that was actually true would only show itself during training camp, or even only at season's start, when they had actual opponents to go up against. 

On the other side, Eric was still cursing his younger brother in regular intervals while Jordan either didn't bother to comment or referred to people and incidents Sasha either didn't know or didn't even want to know about. If this was to become the norm, this was going to be an interesting, albeit exhausting season. 

Back in the locker room, a young guy was waiting for him when he come out of the shower. He was dressed in a Hurricanes t-shirt and track pants, looking right at home. Sasha ran his face against the roster he knew of but came up empty. Sandy hair, too small to be a D-man, twenty-five at the most, he could have been a rookie, but Sasha doubted that.

"Hello?" he said and used the towel draped over his shoulders to rub dry his dripping hair.

"Hi, I'm Dale, I'm working with the equipment manager," the other man answered and extended his hand. "You're Alex? Muller told me to come find you."

"Sasha," Sasha corrected, shaking hands. Why did no one know that? He was rather sure the nickname was widely known. 

Looking momentarily confused, Dale shrugged. "I brought a bunch of stuff for you, your agent gave us your jersey size and we kind of went from there. If anything doesn't fit or you want different sizes for some reason, or more of anything let me know and I'll get it for you. Gary (name of equipment manager Canes???) will only be around tomorrow, but I can get you everything. Do you need your skates sharpened?"

Sasha shook his head, but smiled when he saw the pile of packages in his stall, the red and white of home and away jerseys on top. 

"Thanks," he told Dale with the same smile. 

Dale smiled back. "You're very welcome. See you around, Alex."

But before Sasha could open his mouth to correct him once more, the Staals came into the room in a flurry of noise and activity and arguments about - if Sasha understood correctly - the correct combination of different jelly bean flavors and Dale used the moment to duck through the door.

"Hey Semin, you want to come to Eric's house for dinner tonight?" Jordan interrupted his own sentence that had initially started with "You wouldn't put real banana on popcorn, why spoil the perfect goodness of" and Sahsa took a moment to process. He shot a look to Eric, who made a grimace he couldn't interpret at all, which meant he was on his own.

"Is unpolite, invite to house not yours," he said instead of answering.

Jordan waved off. "It's Eric's place!" he called, the sound muffled by the jersey he was pulling over his head and threw onto the floor. 

Eric looked disapprovingly at the red fabric, his own jersey dripping and on a clothes hanger, before turning to Sasha. "I can invite Jeff and Cam, too," he told him, smiling slightly in defeat.

Sasha knew he probably should accept, if only because Eric was his captain and Jordan was his teammate, but a day before training camp he didn't feel up to socializing. Especially with an 8 am appointment at PNC arena. "Last evening for Eric with family, and I still with jet lag, I think is better different day."

"Suit yourself." Jordan shrugged and made his way to the shower, pads also discarded onto the floor.

Rolling his eyes, Eric yelled, "You're cleaning that up!" after his brother, which was followed by a "Yeah yeah, don't twist something trying to be captainly," from the showers and then Eric turned to Sasha. "I didn't mean to not invite you."

Sasha shook his head. He'd put on underwear and was going through the piles of t-shirts, sweaters and track pants that Dale had brought for him,having already decided the jerseys would fit. Eric meanwhile was only now discarding his last pads, stacking them next to himself.

"Physical early morning and no coffee so they tell me again I not sugar sick, I not think tonight timing is good," Sasha explained and already dreaded the alarm going off at 6:30 tomorrow. 

"Rain check?" Eric asked and grabbed for a towel.

Nodding, Sasha pulled the last sweater over his head, decided it fit and then stashed everything into his duffel bag. Eric nodded back and went to take his shower.

In the lobby, Sasha found Dale, talking to someone on the phone, grinning when Sasha signaled thumbs up for the equipment.

The apartment he lived in in Raleigh had come furnished, but might as well have been empty for all the comfort the furniture exhibited. After almost ten years with the Caps, punctuated by a lockout with the rat tail of problems getting out of his military service, an almost toxic relationship with the media and an at best volatile relationship with some of his teammates, Sasha had sold his condo in Arlington to not be tempted and give in to another contract with them. Not that he was sure McPhee would have signed him again, before that could have come up Sasha had made it very clear he intended to leave for real this time. 

It had been something of a relief. 

Even if it meant risking getting signed longterm back home against his preference, something he knew was a reality and that Zhenya had warned him about. The Hurricanes had prevented that fate befalling him, something he was thankful for. Even if it meant living in an apartment with all the charm of an Amtrack train. He just hadn't been back long enough to decorate.

His phone vibrated on the coffee table in the middle of his depressing reverie that fell into the middle of his Chinese take out dinner. Whatever, Sanja could deal if he had to call at dinnertime.

"How's Raleigh?" his friend asked without preamble just as Sasha stuffed the rest of a spring roll into his mouth.

"Full of Staals," he answered with his mouth full. "But the equipment people are far superior to those in DC. Are they always like this?"

"Equipment managers?" Sanja used the English words, but the amusement was clear in his voice.

Swallowing, Sasha rolled his eyes. "Staals."

"Last time I saw them all together they were picking on Kaner," Sanja mused. "But I didn't pay all that much attention. What are they doing?"

"Right, you were busy fooling around with Letang." Which was surprising to approximately no one and generally a development Sasha was undecided about even after four years. Too many complications there, but also too many feelings. The flight back from Russia a few days ago had been one more testament to that. He let that sit for a moment before he added, "They're all up in each other's business and then Jordan invited me to Eric's for dinner. For now it's funny. I'm not sure about next week."

Sanja laughed for a long minute, probably at his dejected tone, before he was able to confirm, "Staals. Endless source of brotherly squabbles. Wait until they call up the baby, too."

"Mother of God," Sasha groaned and was hard pressed not to cross himself to ward himself from evil. Sanja's only reaction was another booming laugh, making him smile despite himself. It was moments like this that he repeatedly realized how much he would miss his friend's presence on the team he was joining now. Despite all the back and forth with the Caps, Sanja had been his best friend for years and they had always stuck up for each other when necessary and being without him now was a little like leaving a part of himself behind. 

Sasha knew for sure that the other man couldn't read minds, even thought it almost seemed like it what he said next, "You're doing okay, though?"

"I'm fine, Sanja," he answered absently and washed down the last of his food with the beer he had picked up together with the Chinese. Not being recognized wherever he went was one of the nice side effects of having come to North Carolina. "Have you met Oates yet?"

The coaches saga in Washington was a chapter in and on itself.

"No," Sanja said decidedly, making it clear he didn't want to talk about it. Sighing internally, Sasha asked after Masha, made all the right noises when Alex professed how much he missed her, but how stokes he was for the new season and how they should make plans for when they would play against each other.

Sometimes, Sanja was making it far too easy to manage him. 

His alarm went off at far too fucking early o'clock, and only the hope for coffee and maybe a sandwich as soon as he got the blood draw over with made him drag himself out of bed and to the clinic where they would do the physical. He needn't have worried. He was one of the first there, saw Muller and Rutherford talking in the corner and throw him an appreciative look before directing him towards a woman at a table who took his name and fille dout his chart. Charts Sasha could do, it was one of the first things he'd learned after coming to the States. It still wasn't eight, yet, but someone tourniquetted him and drew several vials of blood quickly, before handing him off to man whose quite coat screamed 'physician'.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Ryder and I'll take a look at your vitals."

What followed was a pretty standard physical at the end of which - barring any anomalies with the blood results - he was pronounced healthy enough to start camp. 

After that he was ushered towards the cafeteria, where a part had been cordoned off. The standard long tables where there and up towards the kitchen, someone was apparently frying pancakes, because it smelled heavenly. When he passed someone handed him a plate heaped with several kinds of thick, still hot pancakes - blueberry, banana, chocolate chip.

"Hey Alex, I'm Cam. Lucky you came here before the run, means more pancakes for us." The guy grinned at him and Sasha was simply too tired still to correct him on his name. 

"Coffee?" he asked hopefully and Cam - who was far too cheerful for this early in the morning, but maybe he'd already had his coffee - laughed.

"Sure, come on. Sit down and tell me how you take your poison." 

Sasha set his plate down at an empty table that held cutlery and napkins in a glass and took a seat. "Milk yes, no sugar. Uhm, thanks."

Cam clapped his shoulder once and was off, only to return after a few moment with two mugs and another plate of pancakes. He sat down across from Sasha and watched as he took the first sip of coffee. Sasha wished he could feel the caffeine in his blood stream, which of course he knew wasn't true However, just having the hot liquid slosh in his empty stomach made him feel better.

"How do you find your stay in Raleigh so far?" Cam asked, taking a bite of his food. Too many carbs, but training camp would take care of that. 

"Team food habits be much better than Caps," Sasha pronounced, because the pancakes indeed were excellent. Even so, he would need more substantial food if they would only start practice at one in the afternoon.

Cam raised an eyebrow. "Good to hear, after all an army runs as much on its stomach as on a paycheck."

"I not sign up for war." Sasha eyed him, but kept eating, received a grin in return.

"Oh, I know. But sometimes it seems like that doesn't it?"

Goalies, Sasha decided, had as weird a humor in Carolina as they did in Washington. He was saved from commenting on that, however, by someone dropping down in the chair next to Cam and burrowing his head in his arms.

"Don't mind me," the newcomer said, "I'll just take a nap."

"Jeff, Jeff," Cam chided and leaned in, "did Eric have you babysitting again?"

"No," came the muffled answer, "I was busy and I hate early mornings."

"Says the guy who trained with Gary Roberts all lockout long," Cam stated.

"Shut up," the other man answered and when he raised his head, looking ruffled and tired Sasha had confirmation that it was Jeff Skinner, "Nealer trains with him and he hates early mornings. I don't know how Stammers does it, my only explanation is that he's an alien."

"Is true," Sasha said and two pairs of eyes widened at him. "Oh. I not sure about Stammer, maybe from same planet as Crosby and Toews. But everyone rooming with Neal hates wake up routine, is with like five alarms."

That earned him another confused glance.

"Tanger?" someone asked from behind and then Jordan Staal slid into the seat next to him, already stuffing pancakes into his mouth. "So good. But it's true about Nealer, we all made fun of him for that."

Eric sat down on Cam's other side, raising both eyebrows at Sasha before winking at him. At least he didn't ask the question Sasha just knew he wanted to ask, which was why Sasha was talking to Kris Letang about this stuff. 

"Jeffy, you've met Alex?" he asked instead, which earned him a glare from Skinner.

"Don't call me that! Fuck, I've been here for almost three years! I'm a veteran!" Clearly, this was a point of contention in this group and Sasha held himself intentionally still to not interfere. Really, this wasn't his fight, and it had the smell of an old one.

True to form, Eric and Skinner launched into an argument that somehow seemed to be about Eric's brothers and Jeff's age over Cam's back. Not only was it too fast for Sasha to follow, they also referred to events he hadn't been present for so he had no clue. 

Next to him, Jordan was still stuffing pancakes and coffee into his face.

"Skinner's eldest sister's name is Erica," Cam said a little louder than might have been necessary, although at least Sasha didn't have to try and understand what the other two were saying. "Everyone thought it was hilarious when Jeff was a rookie."

"Did not!" Skinner and Eric said in one voice, making Cam grin.

Sasha, too, could not suppress a smile. This had been a running joke among various teams in the East two seasons ago, about how Eric Staal had wanted to adopt their first round draft pick from that year. And then Sanja had come home from the All Star Game that year, telling how the oldest Staal brother had made very sure he got both Wardo and Skinner on his team. To the point of trying to bribe Lidstrom, apparently, although Sasha still thought that was Sanja being overly dramatic. 

"It's the dimples." Cam winked and was nudged in the ribs by Eric.

"And here I always wanted a little sister," Jordan mused, earning him a paper napkin missile from his brother and a glare from Skinner. Any sister of the Staals would be truly terrifying … or maybe coddled beyond belief, and somehow Sasha was glad he wouldn't witness that. 

He smiled and went back to his pancakes, letting the conversations cropping up all around and as more of his new teammates filtered in, wash over him. 

Team pictures were next, so once they'd all eaten, they filtered into what must be employee locker rooms, but now was full of Hurricanes jerseys. This, at least, was the same on every team, and Sasha his jersey over his head officially for the first time and was surprised to discover he didn't feel any different.

He ended up in line behind Skinner, who turned around and craned his neck to check something before he looked at Sasha. "Sorry about earlier. I'm Jeff. But you know that."

"Sasha," he answered.

Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Not Alex?"

Sighing, Sasha tried to find the explanation that was the least complicated; he'd found that people from different backgrounds had better or worse grasps on this. "Russian not work like English."

The look he got in response was at best dubious. "Okay."

But Sasha could tell he wasn't convinced. He wondered what it would take to make Eric switch, because likely the rest of the team would just follow suit. Shrugging at Skinner, he really didn't have enough words to explain how Russian nicknames worked. Maybe the NHL should put up a guide on their website or something.

"Is culture thing," Sasha tried to explain better, but Jeff just grinned and shook his head.

"No worries, I've been friends with Gabbe too long to really wonder about this sort of stuff." When Sasha raised a questioning eyebrow, Skinner flushed a little, making him seem even younger than with the dimpled grin. "Ah, Landeskog. He's with the Aves?"

"Captain," Sasha answered with a nod. Youngest captain ever in the NHL. 

"And he'll be great!" Jeff said with utter conviction and Sasha wondered if he'd ever really been that young, either back home in Russia or here in the States. But before he could say anything more, maybe a word of caution, Skinner's name and number was called, which meant Sasha would be up next.

When all was said and done and the guy taking the pictures had no more complaints, Sasha was free to go. As it was still two hours until their first practice, he was a little at a loss of what to do with himself. Shrugging, he got into the car and drove the less than ten miles to the arena; he'd never been there before as a Hurricane, only ever when he was with the Caps and he was sitting in the car for a few minutes in the empty lot. The jersey he'd been wearing for the pictures he was supposed to take home with him, all his other gear should be in the locker room here already. Maybe he should have come before today to take a look around, but then he'd been here countless times with the visiting team.

Rooting through the glove compartment of the car produced a power bar that he tore open on the way to the entrance for the players and staff. He was still munching on the protein bar when he phone rang and Sanja showed up on caller ID. That was how he ended up in the home locker room instead of wandering the bowels of the arena, and he was still listening to Sanja rant about Oates wanting him to concentrate on right wing this season when Eric and Jordan marched into the room.

It wasn't strictly speaking anything new that coaches wanted Sanja to work on his game in more than one way, from the 'more defensive' angle to 'maybe you'll be less predictable on right wing'. The fact of predictability itself was something that grated on Sanja, but Sasha was the wrong person to give his friend advice. He also still hadn't finished that protein bar.

"Sanja, I really have to go, camp is starting today," he told him and heard his friend huff a breath.

"Chin up, Sasha," Sanja said and there was a smile in his voice. "Always remember, Staals are just big, blond, over polite Canadian farmboys."

That made Sasha laugh. "If that something Kris has told you?"

"I think is something the NHL advertises with. Call me!"

"Sure. Take care, Sanja." He hung up and took a bite from the bar, chewing methodically. 

"Hot date?" Jordan asked and of course he chose the second when Sasha was swallowing to make him choke. 

Still coughing, Sasha was trying not to spit out the rest of his protein bar. "If I ever make decisions as Sanja, you shoot puck to the head."

Both brothers grinned, but continued to make smalltalk between themselves, although Sasha was fast-learning that smalltalk in Staal-terms apparently meant arguing about anything and everything. It was almost a relief when the rest of the guys started to arrive and Sasha ended up next to the youngest of the Ruutu brothers, who grinned at his restlessly jiggling leg.

"Nervous?" he asked and when Sasha cocked his head clarified, "You look like you want to bolt."

Sasha shook his head. "You think someone catch?"

"I think Skinner could give you a run for your money, even if his legs are kind of short. And our dear captain, probably." The other man narrows his eyes, considering. 

"Better I stay," Sasha concluded and received a smile in return. He wanted a cigarette, but that would have to wait until he was done here. 

Filing onto the ice, warm ups, expectedly that was the way it was with most teams and Sasha fit in pretty well. When they gathered for line rushes, Muller looked over several sheets of paper, the shrugged. 

"We'll try this and see if it works out. If anyhow possible, I'd prefer if we could go into the season like this though." This training camp was different, shorted and rushed and without guys from the minors, because those were in session. It was just them and one week would have to do. "So all of you, get to know your linemates, go have dinner, have a beer, pet your wingers dogs, I don't care. 

"First line: Tlusty, E. Staal, Semin." Muller looked up, Sasha nodded as he imagined the other did and then everyone collectively shuffled a step or two and Sasha found himself in their general vicinity. "Second line: Skinner, J. Staal, Ruutu. Third line."

But Sasha tuned out when he looked at the somewhat surprised face of Jeff Skinner. Jordan beamed as if he'd caught the first whiff of warmth after Siberian winter, which was an understandable reaction, considering he'd been relegated to third line in Pittsburgh, behind Crosby and Zhenya. Sasha himself wasn't surprised to find himself on Eric's wing. He knew why he was here, to score, to get pucks to Eric Staal, face of the franchise, to help secure a playoff spot, if the hockey gods favored them. 

Practice probably went as well as could be expected, considering they all had been on the ice together that day for the first time. Sasha didn't like the way how barely half his passes actually reached his linemates, but tomorrow would probably see an improvement of that already. It had to, because next week already they were supposed to play actual games, and Sasha was supposed to score. Or something. Having this many fans out in the stands had been fun.

"Anyone want to grab a bite?" Skinner asked in the locker room once they had filed back in. Most guys weren't even out of their pads yet, and shot him amused glances. "Whatever," he mumbled.

"Let him be, he's still growing," someone jeered and got the finger in reply. 

Coming back to the actual question, Eric shook his head. "I have to pick up Parker. But if you could give Jordy a ride that would be good, he gets really grumpy when he's hungry."

"I am right here!" Jordan exclaimed and threw his balled up, sweaty practice jersey in his brother's general direction. Of course it missed Eric entirely, sailing harmlessly to the floor. Eric's face was a study in passivity as he regarded his brother, which only made Jordan stare harder. Sibling dynamics, Sasha decided, were definitely different between brothers. With his sister, things were different, but then she didn't have the competitiveness of a professional athlete, maybe that made all the difference. She'd always been supportive of him going to the States and had been the driving force back when he thought he might just give up and give in to the pressure of breaking his contract with DC after the lockout. 

In the end Jordan just grumbled something unintelligible, nodded and Skinner and went to the showers. 

"Brothers," Tlusty said in badly accented Russian, "this will be fun season."

Sasha's grin surprised even himself, but he nodded. "Yes." Then he switched to English for both their sakes. "We make work."

"Sure we will," Tlusty said and they bumped fists. "Snack?"

Sasha considered, divesting himself of the last of his clothes and pads before grabbing a towel. "I can eat," he finally said. 

He got a text from Sanja while they were waiting for their food, _Ice too small._

Yes, that was bound to become a problem, something Sasha had also noticed with several of his new teammates, those who had played in Europe. He showed the text to Jiri, who gave a grim nod. 

"Yes, I think this will be an issue for all teams. You and Ovechkin, you're good?"

Shrugging, Sasha waited to answer until the waitress had put down their grilled chicken and vegetables. 

"Sanja my friend. And I only one willing listen to rambles, so he not live without me." That wasn't really the gist of his relationship with Sanja, but that was too complicated to explain now. 

Jiri grinned knowingly. "I think that what my teammates on Greyhounds also say about me, so I not making judgments."

There was no point in asking; Sasha had gotten into the habit not to judge his teammates on previous acts of insanity. Life with Sanja, Greenie and Nicky would have been impossible in that case, and Sasha knew too well what the media and some of his old teammates thought of him. It was up to his new ones to give him a chance though, and he was far too aware of that, and Rutherford and Muller might say he fit in well here, but they were not with him on the ice.

They talked about their games during the lockout, how the KHL and the Czech league differed. A few times Sasha accidentally lapsed into Russian, which he only noticed when Jiri made a strained face, obvious trying to understand him. When Sasha apologized, his new linemate waved off.

"Is good training for me. Is like secret language, yes?" He winked and just like that it was okay. It had been little different with so many other Russians around, yet still this was different, and Sasha enjoyed it because of that. 

A while later, Sasha just meant to pick up a few groceries when he ran into Eric trying to convince a boy of maybe three to please sit in the cart so they could go home soon. The child didn't seem convinced and was climbing out of the cart, balancing precariously before Eric took him down and Parker let himself drop to the floor, where he stayed.

"Parker, I won't make you sit in there, but then grab the side and just walk with me, hm?" Eric negotiated and Sasha shook his head before walking up to his captain. 

"Parker, eh?" Sasha asked and Eric's face when he turned around was tense for a split second, before he recognized Sasha and gave him a defeated smile. Meanwhile Sasha crouched in front of the small child until the boy looked up at him, eyes growing huge. "Hi Parker. I Sasha."

Parker raised his eyes to his dad, tantrum completely forgotten. It was a bit unfortunate, Sasha thought, that he couldn't see Eric, but he imaged his captained nodded at his son, because Parker stood up and shook Sasha's hand very earnestly. 

"Alex is a new friend," Eric told his son and Parker nodded.

"I'm Parker, and that's my dad," he said and pointed, upon which Sasha turned around to Eric and winked.

He nodded. "Is very nice meet you," he said and touched the child's shoulder gently, before pushing back up to talk to Eric. "He good boy, my niece terrible that age."

To his credit, Eric wasn't dumb. He started pushing the cart, and Parker walked right along, eyes still on Sasha. And Sasha really didn't mind the cereal aisle all that much. "Are they here? Or in DC?"

Shaking his head, Sasha grabbed for the chocolate crunch things he snacked on when he couldn't sleep or was waiting to talk to his father. "Still in Krasnoyarsk, my sister, she make me look after."

"Oh," Eric answered and was steering them back towards the produce section His cart was, Sasha noticed, still curiously empty. He also was clearly avoiding the cutout of himself that Sasha had passed before running into him. "I thought with Ovie's family being here…"

"Sanja is different," he pointed out. "But my family, they visiting. They come here for Winter Classic, great fun."

Parker was tugging on Eric's pant leg, and the man simply picked him up. Sasha raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"How you finish shopping?" 

He grinned at Eric's disgruntled face. "Parker, will you sit in the cart?"

"No." Of course not. Because that would be too easy. One of the things Sasha knew was that Staals were headstrong and it seemed like that was genetic. Eric's face still was a thing to behold, and he almost wanted to snap a picture and send it to Sanja. But he was a 'Cane now.

"Parker, we just need bananas and a few other things for your brother, will you just-"

"No."

Chuckling, Sasha dropped a hand of bananas into Eric's cart. "One time service. Only one."

"Thanks. Levi is only eating orange and yellow foods at the moment. Lucky for us that includes most food groups, somehow, because breaded meat apparently also counts. And then Tanya forgets the bananas." Not like Sasha had really required this explanation, but Eric just seemed in need to talk to someone older than three. And anyway, it was nice to get to know Eric outside the rink. 

He shrugged. "Phase. They have. But I need going and get food, too. Bye Parker."

Parker waved back. "Bye, Uncle Alex." Which yeah, unexpected, but he didn't dislike that.

"Alex," Eric called after him and when he turned around smiled. "Jordy was right that you should come to dinner some time. Let's try before the end of camp, what do you say?"

"Is ok," Sasha answered. "We talk tomorrow. Good evening." He waved one last time and then quickly got his own groceries before heading home.

Passes did connect better the next day, they clicked pretty well in general, and Sasha felt pretty good about himself when he came from the shower. A few stalls away, Jordan sat still in his under armor, phone to his ear. He was probably cold by now, and Sasha threw a towel at him, shaking his head when Jordan looked up with a frown.

"What? No, sorry, I was distracted," he told whoever was on the phone. "It would be better for my ego if I knew the team was falling apart without me."

So someone from the Pens, most likely. 

"Heather's fine, I'll send greetings. And you send me baby pictures!" He listened for a few moments. "Sure, next time one of us is in town. It's a date, Tanger." He laughed. "You wound me, I'm sure we'd make an awesome couple! … Yeah, yeah. See you later."

"Terrible couple," Sasha commented even though he knew he should have held his tongue. 

But Jordan just grinned at him and shrugged. "He's complaining about baby vomit on his clothes, that's something that wouldn't happen with me. And he called Eric insane, both of those are clear indications we'd be awesome together."

"Who thinks I'm insane?" Eric asked with impeccable timing. He was still dripping water from his hair and shivered a little, hurrying to his stall. 

"Tanger," Jordan answered, "because you make Jared drive up for babysitting duty."

"That's what little brothers are for!" Eric exclaimed.

"So I've noticed," his brother said with a sigh that sounded long-suffering. 

Sasha's feeling that he had to get used to this was confirmed once more and he shook his head a with a smile. He and Letang would be terribly dysfunctional, even more so than Sanja and Kris were, and that was saying something. At least in Sasha's opinion.

"Jared is littlest Staal with Checkers?" Sasha interrupted and heard a choked off noise from somewhere down the line of stalls, and saw Skinner emerge from under the towel he had used to rub his curling hair dry. He was a little flushed, which earned him a strange look from Eric for a moment.

But it was Jordan who answered his question. "Yeah, and Eric's lucky I'm here now and our baby brother gets along so well with Jeff, else he'd never lay off the boy."

Skinner rubbed furiously at his hair again.

"Is maybe Jared who lucky, yes?" Sasha asked and he knew his smile was lopsided. Cam snorted in the corner, but didn't comment further on it.

"Wait with making that judgment until you meet him," Eric cautioned. "Which reminds me, dinner?"

Blinking, Sasha felt like a deer caught in headlights. "Come on," Eric said. "Scrimmage is only at twelve tomorrow, you get to sleep in!"

"I'm also coming!" Jordan volunteered, finally on his way to the shower, and Sasha had to laugh when Eric rolled his eyes in annoyance and mouth 'of course'. 

"Cam, Jeffy?" Eric prompted and Jeff nodded.

"Maybe," Cam hedged. "Depends on how Cody's feeling about going out with a newborn."

Eric inclined his head. "Sure. But we have space, you know that. Do what your wife feels comfortable with, we'll have a lace for you."

When they said goodbye until the evening, Sasha had the weird feeling that Eric was secretly pleased that they were all coming. Maybe it was the fact that he was the oldest of four and used to a house full of people. As much as Sasha had liked his former teammates, and was coming to like these ones, he thought lots of people around him were exhausting. He dealt well with him during training and games, but there was a reason he always had turned down offers of sharing apartments with anyone. Sanja had asked, way back when Sasha had come back to Washington after his military service issues, but he had declined. Sanja was the best friend he could ever have asked for, but he also was a force of nature and Sasha needed his space.

All in all though, he was feeling pretty good in his skin about having … well, he hadn't actually accepted the invitation, it was more like Eric had assumed his attempts at persuasion had worked and nothing more had been said on the matter. Sasha shook his head at himself and wondered what to bring for for Eric's wife.

He opted for flowers, because he wasn't big on wine and he doubted the woman was big on whiskey.

At least she laughed when she opened the door. "Among all these guys, you and Jeff seem to be the only ones who don't seem to have to be reminded to bring a woman something. Come in." She took the flowers and extended her hand. "I'm Tanya."

"Sasha," he introduced himself for what felt like the thousandth time over the last couple of days. He wasn't sure he liked that smirk on her face, but he was inside the house and therefore at her mercy.

"I've heard about you. The guys are camped out in front of the Playstation, and unless you want to be grilled by Heather and me, you should probably go back there." She waved him in the general direction of 'deeper into the house' and vanished somewhere. Sasha very much doubted she and Heather - who was Jordan's wife, if his recollection was correct - were merely cooking dinner back there. 

He found Eric, Parker and Jordan in front of a giant flatscreen, with Parker shrieking in delight. "Team Staal wins again!" Eric exclaimed, holding his hands out for his son to high five him. 

"I'm also a Staal!" Jordan protested loudly, and with a pout that might have rivaled Sanja's on some days. 

"When Skinner come? Then I not only not-Staal." Sasha asked and sat in a relax chair next to the couch. Parker waved to him, and Sasha waved back with a smile.

"Skinner also wants to be a Staal," Jordan dismissed.

"Jordy!" Eric admonished, but Jordan only shrugged in response. "How about 'hey Alex, it's nice you came'? And be nice to Jeffy, he's _your_ linemate this season."

"It's your house," Jordan said instead, but briefly turned to Sasha. "Hey Sasha, do you play video games?"

"All hockey players play video games, Uncle Jordan," Parker said, with all the wisdom of a three year old. 

Chuckling, Sasha caught the boy's eye. "That right." Then he glanced at Eric. "I too early?" He hated the way he sounded insecure, and knew he did, but right know this seemed like a family gathering and he was the intruder. And while Sanja's family had always treated him like one of them, he'd left that behind when he sold his condo.

"Nah, everyone else is late as always," Eric told him with a shrug. "And we still don't know about Cam. I'd love to do our annual pre-season BBQ, but I think it will be too cold for that this weekend." When he saw the look on Sasha's face he added, "What?"

"Yes. It maybe 25 degree more cold home."

Jordan snorted. "Not everyone can live in Siberia."

Sasha shrugged and was relieved from answering by the arrival of Jeff Skinner, a flurry of greetings and explanations that he'd had a call and that's why he was late, even though no one seemed to pay it any mind. He and Jordan started arguing about the controller immediately, which made Eric lean back, clearly annoyed. 

"Cut it out already!" he bristled.

Parker meanwhile scrambled up the couch and climbed behind his father to sit in the space between him and Sasha. "You don't like video games?" the boy asked and Sasha was surprised to be the subject of his attention. He'd met the boy yesterday, but all the children that age he'd met had been much shier with virtual strangers. But then Sasha was in his home, with his father clearly relaxed around him.

"Place I live before, we play different game," he told him with a smile. That wasn't entirely true, because they played way too much NHL whichever-current-permutation. Mostly because Sanja was obsessed. Sasha had lost count of how many Stanley Cups they had won on the small screen. Sometimes he wondered if they'd jinxed themselves. 

It was almost funny, the way Parker's eyes grew wide in a way that indicated he had no idea such a thing existed. "Daddy!"

Eric laughed, then rapidly sneaked an arm around his son and pulled him in, making Parker shriek in excitement. "Alex was in Washington the last few years, of course they play different games there."

Before anyone could say anything else, there was a call for dinner. Three Staals scrambled up and practically ran to the table. When Sasha got up slower and shot a questioning look to Skinner, the younger man just shrugged. "They're Staals."

And if that was even an explanation in Carolina, he didn't even know anymore.

When he came to the table, Sasha finally met Heather, and Levi - Eric's youngest son - sitting in a high stool. 

"Cam's not coming, Cody doesn't feel up to it," Eric explained that moment, then added as an explanation towards Sasha, "They had a baby not two weeks ago."

"Is Jared coming?" Jordan asked, looking at the food like some other people looked at their loved ones. Sasha was actually surprised he hadn't started loading it onto his plate.

"Bad game in Houston yesterday," Jeff murmured, which earned him a surprised look from both Eric and Jordan. Skinner flushed and refused to make eye contact with either Staal, which just made Eric shake his head in a gesture that conveyed all the things that he thought were wrong with players on their Entry Level Contract.

But instead of commenting on it, he sighed and pronounced, "Well, in that case, let's say grace."

And that explained Jordan Staal's restraint about grabbing food off the table. Sasha didn't question anyone's denomination as long as no one questioned his own, and it was well known that Eric was very involved with his church. Sasha could relate, even though he hadn't even tried to find an orthodox community down here so far, but maybe at some point they could talk about th differences. 

After answering a dozen questions from Heather and Tanya each, about playing in DC and Russia, about his move and whether the organization had been helpful, Eric had finally taken mercy and changed the topic away from him. For a moment, Sasha just breathed, but knew they'd get back to him if he didn't keep himself busy. 

He turned to Jeff. "You know baby Staal brother?"

"He's actually older than me," Jeff answered with a snort. "But yes, we were in juniors at the same time. Different teams, though. He's a giant, like the rest of them. We met again at Jordan's wedding this summer, uhm, stayed in touch and stuff."

"Always good, friends from old," Sasha confirmed with a nod.

"Sure, uhm, yes." Skinner gave him a smile that looked a bit nervous, but then Sasha didn't know him well enough to really judge that. "So how's Ovie?"

"Heartsick, but he always," Sasha said. He had no clue how much Jordan knew and had in turn shared with his new teammates, so Sasha didn't say anything about Letang. Then again, Sanja mooning over Masha when she was out of the country was almost as bad and almost as entertaining, so he tried to offer a few of those anecdotes. Apparently it worked, because Eric and Jordan felt inspired to share some of Marc Staal's romantic adventures. Somehow, if the brothers were always this involved in each others lives, it was no surprise that Marc was holding out in New York … and that Jordan had more or less asked for a trade to Raleigh. But then. Staals. 

Scrimmage the next day was what they got instead of eight pre-season games and it went as well as one could expect. Sasha scored, his passes were connecting well with Eric and vice versa, the group got along well enough and there was nothing beyond good-natured ribbing going on. 

The next two practices were very much the same, although Sasha wasn't quite sure what he was thinking about him, Skinner as well as Jordan and Eric being on the ice during the power play. It wasn't that they didn't work well together, much to the contrary, but Sasha would have felt better with a second unit with equal the firing power. Looking at the stats the four of them had compiled over the last few years in comparison to pretty much everyone else would have been enough to make some people weep.

"We're playing you next month, do you want to go out to dinner or something?" Sanja asked on the phone while Sasha ws getting ready to meet the Staals, Cam and Skinner for a against-nutritionist's-advice burger downtown. Their last practice was tomorrow and they were leaving for Florida right after, so he was also throwing random things into his bag. 

Rolling his eyes, Sasha stretched and angled for a book, then pulled down his t-shirt again where it had rugged up. "Sanja, I don't know, can we talk about that in a few weeks?"

He could hear his friend pout all the way from Virginia. "Since when are you no fun? Fine, tell me about the Staals."

"They're big, blond, overpolite Canadian farm boys all up in each other's business," Sasha parroted something that Sanja in turn had repeated from Letang. "If anything about that changes I'll let you know."

"That's what Kris says!" Sanja whined as Sasha counted off underwear. A lifetime of packing for road trips had taught him a routine that took games played, practices and nights stayed into account, plus one. Always plus one; until a few years ago he would have said he'd never needed it, but would once he forgot to pack it, but that night they have been snowed in in Pittsburgh of all places had proven his mother right. 

Sighing, Sasha threw the stack where the book had landed. "Eric's the oldest and Jordy the second youngest, I'll let you know I've seen them all together. I doubt it'll change anything though. How's Letang doing?"

He hadn't actually heard anything from that guy since the flight back from Russia, where Sanja had wanted to get up to some inadvisable things, that Letang had put a stop to, for all of their sakes. With Masha and Sanja being engaged and Letang having a baby now, that situation had become somewhat complicated.

The long suffering sigh from the other end of the line was enough to tell Sasha what was going on - or not going on - but he held his tongue until his friend talked. "It's difficult, with the baby and his girl; I don't think she's dealing with it."

Sasha blinked. "Is _he_ dealing with it?"

He'd never said it to Sanja, but he was under the impression that Kris Letang had no clue what was going on between them. Sasha wished he could say he had no clue when they had taken up together (he did, because Sanja had a tendency to overshare), but he didn't know when Sanja had started caring this much, or when Kris had started to care in return. But Kris had been a constant in Sanja's life over the past years to an extend that Sasha had rarely seen with his friend and in turn they had gotten a bit closer, to the point of occasionally texting, Pens-Caps rivalry or not. And Sasha knew all about Kris' feelings.

He didn't know if Kris himself was aware of them though, no matter how much he was projecting them. A blind man would notice.

 _Jordan_ had probably noticed.

Shaking his head, Sasha listened to Sanja grumbling into his ear before finally making up his mind. "It's all good, Sasha." Sasha rolled his eyes. Yes, everything was fine and well, until someone noticed they had painted themselves into a corner. Somehow he was glad he wouldn't be in DC when this blew up, although he was pretty sure he'd feel the fallout anyway. "So, Florida, are you going surfing then?"

"We're leaving the same evening, I don't think so." He let their previous topic go - Sanja was a grown man even if he didn't always act like it - and they switched to small talk, like where in Raleigh to get some good Russian food. 

Two day slater, Sasha was about to step on NHL ice for the first time while not belonging to the Washington Capitals. 

"Nervous?" Eric whispered to him while they were waiting for anthems. Catching his eye, Sasha shook his head. "Good," his captain said.

In the locker room afterward the mood was subdued, as was expected after losing the first game of the season. Sasha kept his head down while he got dressed, hoping no press wanted to talk to him and he could just be annoyed in peace. But as these things went, things never went the way he wanted to. Eric sat down next to him, apparently after dealing with the press. 

"So, that was pretty stupid," he said, referring to Sasha's double minor in the second period. If he was honest, Sasha didn't even know what had brought it on he'd just been so frustrated by everything that it had seemed like the thing to do. Crosschecking a goalie was always a fucking stupid idea, Sasha knew that. That was why in response, he just nodded. Eric rested a hand on his shoulder and clapped it twice. "I know all about those."

A few stalls down, Jeff snorted at that statement, earning himself a glare from his captain. Sasha smiled at both reactions, then pushed at Eric to get him out of the way so he could finish getting dressed. They were going back to Raleigh tonight and he had a feeling there'd be an early skate tomorrow.

"I hate losing the opener," Jordan proclaimed later, sitting next to Sasha on the bus to the airport. Eric and Skinner were on the other side of the aisle, talking quietly.

Sasha turned away from the darkness outside, and leaned his head back. "Last year, first seven games we win. Look where we end season." 

Jordan grumbled something under his breath as Sasha's phone vibrated. "Sanja lose also," he told the other man. The Caps had been in Tampa tonight and were also on their way home. Just because he could, Sasha checked the Game Center app. "Pens win. Philly."

"Good for them. Man those playoffs. It still chafes." 

He didn't really have an answer, just made a sound in the back of his throat that he hoped was affirmative enough and texted Sanja back about their own game and about stupid penalties. Jordan said a few more things about what to do now, until a long leg kicked out over the aisle and Eric told his brother to knock it off. Sasha spent the rest of the ride texting with Sanja about stupid things and not about hockey at all. 

Home openers were always special. Of course Sasha knew the building and the ice, not just from practice but from dozens of visits during his tenure with Washington. Yet the chants and cheers had never been aimed at him, had never been for him, so this was still different. And he loved this, loved the atmosphere and the fans, even if the first period didn't start out too well.

The most unplanned part of the home opener probably was when Malone drove Eric head first into the boards. When Sasha had smothered the thought of retaliation, Eric was already on the bench, shaking his head. Skinner was with him and rapped his helmet as Sasha skated over. Frowning, he saw the way Eric looked slightly dazed, shaking his head again as if to clear something inside. Sasha leaned over the boards.

"You ok?" he asked, yelled against the noise of the arena.

Eric looked up, obviously trying to figure out why he knew him until his eyes cleared. "Yeah, all good."

Obviously that was the bullshit version of 'I can't be hurt, because I'm the face of the franchise and score half the goals here' or something. Sasha rolled his eyes, hearing every captain's voice ever saying those words in his head in three different languages. Insane, all of them. He leaned in further.

"Eric, who he?" he asked and pointed at Skinner.

Eric, bless his heart, snapped up his gaze as if it was Sasha who had lost his marbles. "Alex, are you insane?"

Smiling, Sasha shook his head. "No. But nice you back. You good, score some goals?"

"Hells yeah!" 

Which was good, because they still were the primary power play unit. 

And score they did. Or, at least Skinner scored on a mad scrambled, and Sasha and Jordan both bagged an assist. They still lost the game, but Sasha was feeling better about it than two days ago. Muller talked to them briefly, said they needed to raise their game, and he'd see them tomorrow at nine. 

Sasha still didn't like the way Eric shook his head occasionally and he casually ambled over to stand in front of the man, already mostly dressed. They'd all given some soundbites to the press, but everyone had left by now and even their teammates were starting to leave. 

"Need ride?" Sasha asked. Eric frowned as he looked up.

"Why? You live in the other direction and my car's here."

Shrugging, Sasha decided sometimes his reputation as enigmatic Russian might work in his favor. "Is no reason. I pick up tomorrow, too. Get you out of bed."

"I have kids for that," Eric groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Okay, yeah, drive me home."

Sasha was still laughing when they got to the parking lot.

"Don't imagine I don't know what you did there," Eric said grumbling as he slid into the passenger seat.

Shrugging, Sasha slid the key in the ignition and started. "Work anyway, so?"

That earned him a grin, at least. They were quiet for a few minutes and Sasha concentrated on taking the right turns. "Hey Alex," Eric eventually asked, "what do you do for fun, off season?"

During the brief look Sasha shot the man Eric seemed relaxed. "You ever see summer in Russia?"

Eric laughed. "No. We spend summers with my parents, at least as long as Parker isn't in school. We'll see how things turn out in a few years."

"Is short," Sasha explained. "In Krasnoyarsk, maybe three months. With playoffs here, if deep, less. When we little, we spend all time in water. Still do. But now I buy jet ski."

"Fuck, I love jet skis," Eric answered, obvious longing in his voice. They spent the rest of the drive comparing their marks and models and what the best conditions were, if rivers or lakes were better suited. When Sasha dropped Eric off eventually, they were still discussing and decided to postpone it to the morning. Sasha really thought he might come to like Raleigh, North Carolina.

"Alex, I want you to shoot more," Muller said the next morning at practice. He'd called their line to him to discuss a few specifics, but this was something Sasha hadn't expected. He pulled a face. "If you can't see an opening that's one thing, but when you even just think you can get it in, take the shot."

They won the first leg of the home-and-home with Buffalo - _finally_ \- and Sasha mostly tried to sleep on the plane. Eric had had a hat trick, but they had a game the next day, and he seemed equally wiped. Somehow, Sasha had ended up next to Skinner, who seemed to be writing a novel on his tablet, biting his lip. Sasha turned away from the light and closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable in the seat.

**Author's Note:**

> Sasha was supposed to find His Place In The World in Carolina and MY HEART BLEEDS THAT IT DIDN'T WORK OUT. 
> 
> In a perfect world this would have had more chapters or gone on a lot longer, but I think I left Sasha in a good place, where he could look optimistically into the future, and where his teammates had decided to give him a chance.
> 
> (I had so many plans for Skinner and the Staals and also for Sasha to be a mentor of sorts and just someone who looked at his friends and wondered how he deserved this but who also was incredibly fond of them. So many plans.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
